


Double Double Toil and Trouble

by marauders_groupie



Series: Bellarke Halloween 2k15 [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bellamy's POV, F/M, Halloween, Halloweentown AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/pseuds/marauders_groupie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Blake siblings never understood why their mother hated Halloween so much and forbade them from mentioning magic when it obviously didn't exist, no matter what their flaky grandma Aggy said. </p><p>Halloweentown AU!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Double Toil and Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> I shamelessly love Halloweentown, it's my jam and it's amazing and wonderful and everything that is right with Halloween so here - have an AU! Thank me later!

The Blake family had four rules:

1) Halloween is not a real holiday. No trick or treating and costumes allowed.

2) Black cats are the bringers of bad luck. Avoid them whenever possible.

3) Grandma Augusta is silly and we do not believe anything she says.

4) There is no such thing as magic.

The Blake children, namely Bellamy and Octavia, could eat cookies for dinner, have breakfast at midnight and stay up watching TV for as long as they’d like, but they had to adhere to the four very important rules.

They never did understand why their mother Aurora insisted on staying home at Halloween, why Bellamy couldn’t get a black but an orange cat from the shelter when he wanted a pet, and why they shouldn’t believe a single word coming out of their favorite grandmother’s mouth.

The magic part was pretty self-explanatory, magic definitely didn’t exist and Bellamy always frowned when their mother lashed out at Octavia for watching cartoons featuring witches.

“There are no such thing as witches, Octavia!” Aurora would shout, kitchen cabinets rattling due to the draft in their apartment.

Octavia would then roll her eyes because she was almost thirteen and knew how the world worked. “I _know_ , mom.”

That could only ever appease Aurora for a short while, because she would stay in a bad mood long after that. She was a good mother, Bellamy knew – she took care of them, fed them, clothed them, worked three jobs to make ends meet – but if there was anything that ticked her off to no end it was any mention of magic.

And her mother, Augusta Blake, Bellamy and Octavia’s grandmother. She wasn’t over at their place a lot, she’d usually just pop up every other Halloween, claiming that she was in town and wanted to check up on them.

No one knew where she lived, really. Aurora would alternate between “not in the States” and “on the west coast, stop asking questions”. She certainly looked like she doesn’t belong there – wearing swishy robes that fluttered about the place and carrying her faithful flower-print bag wherever she went.

When Bellamy asked their mother what’s the deal with the clothes, Aurora Blake just rolled her eyes – a gesture Octavia must have picked up from her – and said, “She’s a hippie.”

Octavia loved grandma Aggy because she always came bearing gifts – crystals and candy for her, books on mythology for Bellamy. The woman told the best bedtime stories, about a place where magic existed, a town called Halloweentown that never stopped celebrating the one holiday the Blake children weren’t allowed to celebrate.

“It’s a place far away from here,” grandma would say, smiling as Octavia’s eyes widened. “A place where all sorts of creatures live together in peace and harmony. There are ghosts,” she’d whisper, Octavia gasping, “werewolves, vampires and even _witches_!”

“Where is it, grandma?” Octavia’s eyes were wide, boggling out of her head as she snuggled her teddy bear closer.

“Far, far away.”

Aurora went with it, mostly ignoring her mother during her short stays, but as soon as Grandma Aggy left their apartment, she’d whirl around, serious look on her face as she spoke.

“Don’t believe a single word your grandma says. She’s old and doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

When Bellamy turns eighteen and Octavia thirteen, Aurora dies in a car accident leaving them with no one to take care of them and a whole bunch of bills that need to be paid. Bellamy is too busy trying to keep them alive to even notice that it’s Halloween but Octavia is by his side as soon as he gets her home from school, eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, Bell! Just once, let me go just this once!” she wails, tugging on his sleeve as he fries the bacon and prays the oil doesn’t end up on his face.

“Octavia-“

“Mom’s not here anymore! Please, Bell, I really want to go trick or treating!”

He lets out an exasperated sigh because his sister can be relentless when she wants something and trick or treating may not be an activity that makes them feel closer to their late mother, but it’s something he can do to make her feel better.

She spends most of the days holed up in her room and by the end of the day, he’s got no desire to do anything else either. College was in question even when Aurora was alive and now he’s just happy to be working two dead-end jobs that pay the bills and buy food and clothes for O.

“Yeah, alright.”

His little sister beams at him, excitedly jumping up and down as she rambles about wearing a costume and getting a plastic pumpkin for candy. He mostly just looks at her, content that she’s smiling after what seemed like eons of nothing but scowling.

She’s got her plastic pumpkin, robes and a witch’s hat (“I’ve kept it under my bed, jeez, Bell.”) and she managed to procure one for him too when their doorbell rings and they still completely.

“Do you think it’s-“

Bellamy shrugs. “Let’s go and see.”

It’s Grandma Augusta alright, smiling and wrapping her arms around them as soon as she sees them. The novelty of her visits wore off around the time Bellamy turned sixteen and if he wasn’t pissed off that she’s talking Octavia into believing in fairytales earlier, he is now.

“Oh, children, I’m so glad to see you!”

They go about their usual routine – gifts for both of them and stories of faraway places but when Octavia is safely tucked into her bed, the idea of trick or treating long forgotten, Bellamy sits at the kitchen table with his grandmother, tired of the whole charade.

“Where were you, grandma?”

“Oh, Bellamy,” she brings a hand to his cheek. “I wasn’t able to come.”

“Really? Mom died, grandma. Mom _died_ and you didn’t even make it to her funeral!”

He was always fond of their flaky grandma Aggy but now he’s just tired and refuses to have anything even vaguely resembling understanding for the woman who couldn’t even make it to her daughter’s funeral.

“Bellamy, I would’ve come if I could-“

“Well, why couldn’t you!?”

She sighs, slumping down in her chair and suddenly looking very much defeated. The resemblance to Aurora is uncanny – they have the same high cheekbones, sharp jaw Bellamy and Octavia share, glint in their green eyes.

But Aurora took care of them. Grandma only came on Halloween, filled their heads with stories of magical places and left, leaving them to cope in a world without even a drop of magic.

 “I came to ask you if you wanted to come live with me.”

Bellamy scoffs. “Live with you? No offense, Grandma, but where do you even live?”

“In a far-“

“Faraway magical, mystical, mumbo-jumbo exotic shit place, I know,” he rolls his eyes.

Grandma’s eyes widen and then narrow to two slits as she raises her index finger. “Now listen here, Bellamy, that is no way for a Blake to talk!”

“I think you lost the privilege to criticize me when you didn’t show up to our mom’s funeral.”

“Well, I think you two should come live with me,” she says, smoothing out her skirt and avoiding his gaze. He doesn’t want to be this grownup, he’s still eighteen and mostly confused, but he can’t exactly trust their grandma. “You’re Blakes, after all.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal with that? You’re always going on about being a Blake, which – no offense, but what does that even mean?”

She smiles a wry smile, raising her eyes. “A Blake which.”

“Huh?”

“A Blake _witch_ ,” she emphasizes and Bellamy is pretty sure that she’s lost it.

She’s old; old people get senile and frankly, he should’ve seen this coming. Must’ve been from all the LSD she’d taken at Woodstock or something.

“A Blake witch,” he deadpans, blinking at her.

“Oh yes,” she confirms. “Witches and warlocks from our family were always the most powerful ones, Bellamy. Sadly, your mother didn’t want to be a part of our world – she fell in love with your father and, well, look how that turned out.”

“A Blake witch.” He’s still not sure what’s going on.

“You’ve said that already, dear. Didn’t you ever wonder why your mother didn’t want you to learn about magic?”

“Because it doesn’t exist?”

Then she laughs so loud Octavia probably heard her all the way to her room and he has to shush her. She’s got tears streaming down her cheeks by the time she’s quieted down.

“Oh, magic exists, I assure you. I’m only sorry that I didn’t insist I train you. But there is still enough time for Octavia – she is thirteen.”

“So?”

“If she doesn’t receive training by her thirteenth Halloween, she will lose her powers. Forever.”

“Powers?”

Grandma hums in confirmation. “Yes, every witch in the Blake family has them. Haven’t you noticed? Didn’t your mother ever get so angry that books flew from the shelves and kitchen cabinets rattled?”

“It’s the draft, this place is pretty bad.”

But grandma is right. Things like that happened – often. Things like that started happening to Octavia even before Aurora died. But it wasn’t magic – magic doesn’t exist.

His grandma looks like she’s onto him and he huffs, standing up. “You’re welcome to sleep over.”

“Will you at least consider it, Bellamy? We need to leave by morning if she is to start her training.”

“To become a witch,” he parrots, frowning when grandma Aggy nods. “Yeah, okay, I’ll talk to her about it.”

He’s definitely not going to talk to Octavia about her witch training because that’s absurd. They’re not witches and warlocks or whatever the hell that is. Magic doesn’t exist and their mother was right – they shouldn’t believe a single word coming out of their grandmother’s mouth because she’s obviously full of –

“ _Shit_ ,” he swears, stubbing his toe on Octavia’s nightstand and she stirs immediately.

“Bell?”

“Oh, hi, O. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s fine,” she says but yawns right after that and he chuckles. “I wasn’t sleeping. Not really.”

She scoots a little, making some room for him on the bed and then cuddles up against him. They did this even before Aurora died, the two of them on their own most of the time and no one else to turn to but to each other.

“Grandma Aggy says that I’m a witch.”

“Oh, does she?”

“Yeah,” Octavia nods against his chest, curled up to a tiny ball. “Mom was a witch, too.”

“Do _you_ think you’re a witch?”

He isn’t really sure what he expects her to answer. It’s – a lot of weird things are happening but he doesn’t want to buy into it in case if it’s just another of those things that come back to bite them in the end.

“I think so. I don’t know, Bell. Look.”

She straightens up in the bed, clearing her throat. He’s not sure what’s going to happen but then she makes a swirling motion with her right hand and her teddy bear flies across the room to land in her arms. It’s surreal.

“See? Witchy.”

When he doesn’t say anything, she starts rambling excitedly.

 “Grandma told me she has a huge house, with a garden and an attic, and there are people my age who I could be friends with and – “

“Did she say where that house is?”

“Yeah,” Octavia grins. “In Halloweentown!”

“Right.”

He stands up, deciding to tell his grandmother to leave and never come back when Octavia speaks up, and her voice is so quiet and tiny it breaks his heart.

“Do you think we could move there, Bell?”

“I don’t know, O. What about school?”

“There is a school, grandma told me. I’d – I think that’d be really good for us,” she sighs. “You wouldn’t have to work and we could do magic and have fun.”

He couldn’t. Not if what his grandmother told him was true. But if Octavia wants to do it – he wants to make that happen for her.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks, Bell! You’re the best!”

Or the stupidest. Two sides of the same coin.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, Halloweentown, is that in Minnesota or?”

They’re climbing aboard a very strange-looking bus, one suitcase each, and their grandma can’t stop talking about how much fun they’ll have and what a good experience it will be. Octavia is buying into that crap all the way but Bellamy is having a hard time understanding where they are going.

He googled Halloweentown before he told their grandmother they’re taking her offer, but came up with nothing except a fair two towns over.

His grandmother levels him with a cool glare. “It’s not in Minnesota.”

“Fine,” he huffs and settles back into his seat. The bus is empty and he’d also never seen that exact bus stop but Octavia fills it with her excited chatter and he soon finds himself laughing at something their grandmother said.

Then the bus starts with a screech and he’s pretty sure they’re not on the road anymore.

“Bell, look!” Octavia points her finger at the window, climbing across his lap to plaster her face on it.

Sure enough, everything he can see are clouds surrounding them and he is trying not to freak out because this defies all laws of gravity but if he panics then Octavia will too. Their grandmother, sitting across them, is just smiling and patting her bag with the same mischievous glint in her eyes all of them have.

The bus fills up with people seemingly out of nowhere, and Bellamy has to bite into his tongue to stop himself from screaming out because this is either the weirdest Halloween party bus ever or there’s an actual ghost girl floating a few inches in the air right next to him.

“And,” the ghost girl turns to her friend, “then I told him to keep his filthy paws off of me because I won’t have a werewolf touch me!”

It looks like “a witch, a werewolf and a ghoul walk into a bar” joke coming true and he does his best to keep his mouth shut until the bus finally stops and people file out.

“This is our stop,” grandma Aggy announces, rising from her seat and motioning for them to do the same. Bellamy honestly has no idea what to expect when he steps out of the bus.

There are people. Well – sort of people, he figures. Most of them look pretty usual but there are tell-tale signs that a man who passes him by is a vampire – his fangs are large and it’s either overbite or they really protrude from his mouth. And there is a lot of them – ghosts, vampires, witches who look like the ones from the fairytales and those who would seem human if it weren’t for their groceries levitating behind them.

The town square consists of a market, a gigantic city hall, and a pumpkin so large it shadows half of it. Octavia is absolutely thrilled and his grandmother revels in it.

A woman, red wings attached to her back, approaches his grandmother. “Oh, Augusta! I’ve been meaning to ask you –“she notices Bellamy’s eyes boggling out of his head because those are real wings _holy shit_ – “Oh, hello.”

“Mel, dear,” his grandmother smiles, patting the woman’s arm. “These are my grandchildren – Bellamy and Octavia.”

“Oh, are they Aurora’s kids?”

Bellamy sneaks a glance at Octavia and his heart breaks when he sees her shoulders slumping in visible retreat. He takes her hand in his and squeezes, Octavia flashing him a watery smile.

“Yes, they are. Unfortunately, my daughter has passed and now they are coming to live with me.”

The woman – Mel – presses a hand to her mouth, shocked. “Oh dear, I am so sorry – I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” Bellamy assures her. She seems polite – most of the people, alright - he’s going to call them people because ‘creatures’ just sounds racist, look nice – waving at each other in passing, apologizing when they stumble into one another and it seems like a picturesque town where everyone knows everyone and they all get along.

Well, he’ll be damned.

Their grandmother ushers them into a cab driven by a skeleton going by the name Benny. His jokes are corny but he’s a good driver.

“How can you drive without eyeballs?” he quietly asks Octavia and she elbows him in the ribs.

“Shut up, Bell. Don’t be mean.”

Their grandmother’s house is huge. It’s not even a house – it’s a full-blown manor, with a front gate (Bellamy is proud to say that he didn’t even wince when his grandmother opened the lock with a wave of her hand) and a huge garden.

It would have all the makings of a haunted house if it weren’t for how well kept it is and how colorful everything is. The façade is blue and purple, a Victorian slated roof and huge porch rounding the house. The front doors open on their own but no one’s even fazed anymore – the siblings are either in a permanent state of shock or they’ve simply decided to go with it.

The kitchen looks normal – all top-notch technology, but there are jars full of eyes, fangs and spiders, causing Octavia to widen her eyes and whisper: “Witchy.” It’s probably going to become a permanent thing.

Octavia is running around the place, propping onto her toes to take a peek inside the cauldrons next to the sink. There are at least three steaming ones, purple and pink and green steam rising from the surface and wrapping the room in smell of lavender and chocolate.

It’s actually nice, he has to admit. Sunlight streams in through the big windows, there are birds chirping somewhere in the distance and his grandmother hums as she cooks.

Bellamy really doesn’t understand why his mother didn’t want them to come here. It seems perfect – friendly people, a really nice house that isn’t cold all the time and – it could be a real home. At least Bellamy wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.

“Why didn’t mom let us come see you?” Octavia enquires from the sink where she’s poking the frog lounging there.

“Well, you _are_ part human and she thought that the human world would be a better fit for you. She wanted you to grow up like other kids.”

Bellamy scoffs because their childhood definitely wasn’t idyllic and he can’t for the life of him understand why his mother would choose to work dead-end jobs and barely make ends meet when she could have been here.

“I am sorry about you, Bellamy,” her grandmother casts a quick, remorseful look over her shoulder at him. “I wanted to train you but your mother wouldn’t hear of it.”

He could have been a warlock. And maybe there were signs – the book he’d been trying to find would always appear at the top of a heap he thought he’d checked already, he always managed to find chips no matter where his mother hid it, and when Octavia and he were particularly cold the blankets would suddenly become much warmer.

Yes, maybe there were signs. Not that it matters anymore. All of that stopped when he was thirteen.

“Can’t we help Bell?”

“Unfortunately not, darling. If he doesn’t start training by his thirteenth Halloween, his powers are gone for good. That’s how it works.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he smiles at Octavia. “As long as O can do it.”

The stew his grandmother makes is delicious and the three of them sit around the kitchen table, grandma Aggy explaining everything there is to know about the world they now live in. Apparently, the creatures left the human world after the Dark Ages and founded Halloweentown – a place where anyone with supernatural abilities would be welcomed.

Bellamy isn’t supernatural – or stopped being when he was thirteen – and so he doesn’t know where he fits in.

His grandmother smiles reassuringly at him when he raises the subject. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll find something for you to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy realizes a couple of things during his first month in Halloweentown; his family is really respected around here and he is the first male descendant in the long lineage of the Blake witches. When he tells people that he’s not actually magic, they look disappointed, almost as if someone actually expected great things out of him.

The second thing is that Octavia really loves all of this. And, as he begrudgingly admits one day, he does too. He can’t do magic for shit - Octavia made him try, saying “It’s really very simple, Bell – all you need to do is want something and then let yourself have it!”

She made it sound easy but it wasn’t. And he was more disappointed than he should have been when he spread his fingertips wide and wished for his book to come flying into his arms, only for nothing to happen.

He can’t do magic but he can cook and potion-making comes naturally to him – he knows almost instinctively when something is about to simmer and when it’s better to let it bubble. Grandma Aggy stopped using her microwave for instant potions (“It’s got three buttons, see, dear – bubble, toil and trouble.”) and Bellamy could swear she got teary-eyed when he finished his first potion.

He likes Halloweentown. Likes its citizens, polite people who always stop by to chat even if he scowls, likes the cab driver Benny, likes the library he spends a lot of time in, likes the magic of the place even if he can’t perform it.

What he likes the most, though, is Clarke Griffin’s apothecary and tea shop.

His grandmother sends him to get some snake tails and werewolf hair one afternoon and at first he wanders around the square, unsure of where to get it. That’s when a small, flowery sign catches his attention and it’s as if by magic that he finds himself in a shop smelling of rosemary and parsley, walls adorned with art depicting Halloweentown throughout history and a smiling attendant behind the register.

There are tables as well, comfy-looking mismatched armchairs and he’s been in Halloweentown for a month but this is the most magical thing he’d seen.

“You looking for something?”

The girl smiles politely at him and he tries not to stare. Her blonde hair is falling down her shoulders in soft waves and it looks like a halo, even if her eyes are the most piercing blue he’s ever seen. She’s wearing jeans and an oversized knit sweater, a black cat perched on her left shoulder.

She’s so Halloweentown that there is no way of mistaking her for anything else.

“Uh,” he stammers, “yeah – my grandmother sent me to get,” he checks the paper, “five snake tails and – uh – werewolf hair?”

The girl nods, like he didn’t just say that and rounds the counter, rummaging through a cabinet before emerging with a jar full of what seems to be rattlesnake tails.

Then she looks over her shoulder, towards a lacy curtain, and shouts. “Wells! Get over here!”

Bellamy hears the voice before he sees the owner, and it sounds exasperated. “If you need me to try your potion again, I told you I’m not doing it!”

She rolls her eyes at Bellamy like they’re already sharing an inside joke.

“Just get over here, I need you!”

He hears chairs rattling and then a dark-skinned, bemused-looking boy steps out from behind the lace curtain. “Coming, sheesh, Griffin – oh. Hello.”

Bellamy manages a small wave.

“I’m Wells Jaha,” the boy offers his hand and Bellamy shakes on it. It’s incredibly warm and he’s not sure why that is until the girl orders him to turn around and waves her hand in the direction of his hair. A couple of hairs neatly fall off and fold themselves into a jar on the counter.

A werewolf. Huh.

“I’m Bellamy Blake. “

“Oh,” the girl’s eyes widen in surprise. “You’re Augusta’s grandson?”

Bellamy nods. She flashes him a smile and then rounds the counter again, wrapping up the two jars.

She taps at the register and zeroes out the bill. “It’s on the house. Tell Augusta if she ever needs anything – I’ve got her.”

“Sure, I’ll pass that along.”

He’s nearly out the door when he realizes that she hasn’t even told him her name and he turns around, only to see her blushing as if caught doing something she shouldn’t have.

“I didn’t get your name,” he deadpans, sort of lost since the moment he realized that she was checking him out.

“Oh. It’s Clarke.” Her smile is brilliant. “Clarke Griffin.”

 

He keeps returning to Clarke’s shop under the guise of his grandmother needing ingredients for one potion or the other, until she finally tells him that she makes really good tea and he can pretend he comes for that.

After that, they sort of become friends. He spends most of his evenings in the library where a nice ghoul named Maya has a soft spot for him and helps him get the books that might help him understand this world. They don’t. There is absolutely no explanation for magic, only that it has existed since the dawn of time. And human history is full of warlocks and witches who’ve made their mark.

Since the library does have a closing time and mostly because Maya tells him that he shouldn’t be spending so much time there, he starts coming over to Clarke’s and ranting about the topic of the day.

“It doesn’t make sense!” he starts, running his fingers through his hair as Clarke smiles knowingly. She has experience with him – one day it’s physics of how this world even _exists_ and the other it’s the discord between how much time passes in Halloweentown and in the real world.

“What doesn’t, Bellamy?”

“It doesn’t make sense that you just lose your powers when you’re thirteen!”

At that, she flinches and stops doing whatever she was doing to turn around with a somber look in her face.

Trying to figure out why he lost his powers at thirteen has become a sort of a hobby for him. He helps Octavia with school, runs errands for his grandmother but can’t help thinking how better it would be if he could do all of those things – all the magic stuff. Even if it just meant summoning his bathrobe in the morning.

“Did _you_ lose your powers when you were thirteen?”

He never told her and she never asked. It was common knowledge that Augusta Blake’s grandson couldn’t do magic and it wasn’t like anyone discriminated him because of it – they just supposed that he was born without the powers.

Bellamy huffs and plops down into his favorite armchair, the one with orange patches on the armrests. “Yeah. My mom wouldn’t train me.”

Clarke’s features soften and it isn’t pity he sees in her eyes, it’s just compassion and understanding. He’d seen her walk around the shop, ingredients arranging themselves after a flick of her wrist. He’s even seen her levitating her cat, Philomena, for laughs. Magic is just so ingrained in her daily life that she would probably feel like she’s lost a part of her soul without it, and it’s no wonder she can understand how he must feel just by imagining it.

He really, really likes her when she comes over to sit next to him and takes his hand. “Oh, Bellamy, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s – ah, it doesn’t matter. It is what it is.”

She nods, dropping his hand to stand up and smooth out her skirt. Her wardrobe is pretty eclectic – it’s all huge sweaters she looks like a tiny mouse in one day, and then the other she’s wearing flowy robes just like his grandmother.

“I’ll get you some tea, alright?”

It would be easy to lie that he’s just coming over for tea because it’s amazing, really is, but he likes seeing Clarke. It’s sort of stupid and Octavia teases him mercilessly about it but he likes the girl whose face always lights up when he comes in and she waves him over, interested to talk about what he’s learned in the library that day.

She returns with a chipped cup in her hands and their fingertips brush as she hands it to him. Both of them look away and Bellamy’s hand darts to rub his neck, cheeks growing hotter. Clarke is magic but she’s also _magic_.

“Anyways,” she speaks up, voice higher than usual, “my mom is a healer.”

It’s not bad, as far as changing the subject goes. And he knows about Clarke’s mom, she comes over often – if the Blakes are respected, then so are the Griffins. Of course, Clarke’s father isn’t a warlock – he’s a vampire, but a really nice one (well, everyone is nice in Halloweentown), but Clarke’s mom, Abby, is the best healer in the whole town.

“How come you’re not?”

Clarke scrunches up her nose, shifting her gaze through the window display as she speaks. “I wasn’t that good at it. My mom always wanted me to help her but she’s an amazing healer. I was always just – average. But I’m good at this,” she says and then beams as she looks at him. “I’m good with tea and ingredients and all sorts of domestic magic, really. That’s what I like. It’s not as noble as my mom’s healing but I like to think that I help people in my own way.”

“You do,” he assures her and she tilts her chin just a bit in a polite nod, but she’s looking at him through her eyelashes and there are butterflies in his stomach where there shouldn’t be any.

“What I’m trying to say is – you don’t have to be a warlock to do something good, Bellamy. You don’t have to choose the most respected profession to be valued. Magic can get you anything you wish for, but nothing’s worth anything if you can get it just by wishing.”

He’s always going to remember that moment as the exact moment he falls in love with Clarke.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a warm and sunny day when his grandmother disappears. At first, Bellamy doesn’t think anything of it – maybe she left to take care of something and forgot to leave a note. He goes about his usual business, reheating the cereal in the microwave (“Bubble and trouble, boiling is unnecessary.”) and going through the newspaper as he eats.

There is an article, written by one Nathan Miller, about the disturbing disappearances in Halloweentown. It catches Bellamy’s attention because Halloweentown is strange, by human standards, but nothing really concerning ever happens. The biggest scandal they had was the ghoul scare a couple of days ago after a family of ghouls attacked a fairy for collecting money for charity.

This, however, seems more serious and Bellamy stops eating to read it. Apparently, it all did start with the ghoul scare – the family that was responsible for it is now missing from Halloweentown, and the fairy who was attacked claimed that she never saw the Vies behave that way.

_“They were always kind,” Fox Twain tells us. She was surprised to be on the receiving end of such a negative reaction coming from a kind family like the Vies. I would like to take this opportunity to remind our readers that Vincent and Maya Vie, father and daughter living on the Chilly Hill, always donated the most for causes such as scholarships for orphaned banshees and little werewolves’ baseball league._

_“Vincent and Maya were always lovely neighbors,” the town’s mayor, Cage Wallace, confirms. “We are all sorry about this incident but I can assure the citizens of Halloweentown that we are working on finding the real cause behind their disappearance.”_

_However, the town’s mayor currently has no substantial information. No one can explain what exactly happened and where the father and the daughter have gone._

_We must not think of the worst, for now. Let us only remember that Halloweentown was founded as a safe place for all creatures rejected by humans, and it is with a thought of harmony and co-habitation that we decided to settle here._

Bellamy nearly drops his bowl when he reads that Maya, the same girl who was always so kind to him in the library, is gone. And lashing out at a donation-collecting fairy doesn’t exactly seem like her.

Grandma Aggy isn’t home when he picks up Octavia from school, along with her two friends – Monty Green and Jasper Jordan, the funniest pair of banshees he’d ever seen. Octavia seems to get along with them and he has a soft spot for the awkward kids.

However, he is worried about their grandmother and while he’s cooking up a potion to help Octavia study, he can’t help but to ask her if she knows anything about their grandma’s whereabouts.

“Oh, no clue. I know that she was supposed to go see Abby Griffin today, to talk about what’s been going on in the town but,” she shrugs, petting the black cat conveniently named Socks, “she should have been here already.”

“So grandma knows that something is going on?”

“Yeah. We talked about it. It’s strange – she says she can _feel_ it.”

“Huh. Alright, O, go get grandma’s spell book.”

Octavia hops off of the stool and leaves in the direction of their grandmother’s room. Bellamy hears clatter above his head, something breaks in the process of finding the book but there’s vibration in the air every time someone does a spell and he figures Octavia probably fixed it.

He asked Clarke what does magic feel like and her wistful smile told him everything he needed to know. “It’s as if electricity is surging through your fingertips, you can feel it. The words don’t mean anything if you don’t wish hard enough.”

Bellamy wished for a lot of things but apparently, it wasn’t enough.

Octavia returns empty-handed and confused. “It’s not there.”

“How can it not be there? She _never_ moves it,” Bellamy frowns at the dishrag in his hands and then drops it, going to his grandmother’s room.

It’s exactly what you’d expect out of a witch’s room – decked in purple and red, brooms leaned on the wall, huge cauldron and an intricately crafted table where the spell book should be.

Except it’s not there.

“Can you try summoning it?”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Good thinking, Bell. Like I didn’t try that already!”

When she’s not home in time for dinner, Bellamy wraps a scarf around his neck, pecks Octavia’s cheek and leaves her home alone with instructions to spray some salt around doors and windows.

When he arrives to Clarke’s apartment, he only has to say “I need your help” for her to nod solemnly, get her coat and leave with him. He fills her in on the details as they walk back to his grandmother’s house, and she doesn’t seem surprised.

“My mom told me she didn’t come today and she was worried. They did discuss the events in Halloweentown, and the Vies aren’t the first to disappear.”

“They’re not?”

“No,” she shakes her head, worrying her lower lip as they brush past a family of vampires who don’t even stop to chat with them. People stopped doing that – these days everyone looks tired and the town square isn’t filled to the brim with incessant chatter.

There is something in the air as they walk uphill, a nervous sort of tension he feels as strange on his skin. He may not be a warlock, but Halloweentown is his home and there is something so inherently _wrong_ about what’s going on – he can’t just let it slide.

“Does your mother have any ideas about what’s going on?”

“Some, yes,” Clarke confirms, craning her neck to meet his eyes as they walk. “Augusta and she agree that a curse must be in place. This – I know you don’t know a lot about Halloweentown but people weren’t like this.”

“I know.”

And he does – he misses the kindness and all the smiling.

They make it through the front gate, Clarke winking at him as she turns the lock into a frog, but her cat digs her claws into the ground and hisses.

Clarke squats beside her, following her gaze towards the house. “What’s wrong, Phil?”

Philomena just keeps hissing at the house and Clarke and Bellamy exchange matching looks of concern as they reach the front door. Bellamy doesn’t feel anything strange and sure enough, Octavia is there to open the door.

“Finally!” she exclaims, turning away instantly to make her way deeper into the house, leaving Bellamy and Clarke to follow her. Philomena is wiggling in Clarke’s arms and the girl seems to be worried about that. Bellamy knows that cats are companions to witches, they help them channel and strengthen their powers, but there is also a more intuitive bond between the two.

Every witch he’s met so far has a black cat – or at least a cat with black spots.

“What’s wrong, O?”

She motions for them to enter grandma’s room and then stops in front of the crystal ball, frowning at it. Thick fog is enveloping the scene playing in the ball but Bellamy can see the town square, only – it’s going grey. It feels off.

“We need grandma’s spell book.”

Bellamy nods, turning to Clarke who is still staring at the crystal ball, a pained expression on her face. It’s only when he places a hand to the small of her back that she seems to snap out of whatever trance she’d been in and turns to look at him.

“It’s bad.”

“How bad?”

“Your grandmother is gone. She was – she was taken.”

“Well, who took her?” Octavia demands, settling her hands on her hips like a miniature version of their mother. It would be funny, if the situation didn’t erase any chance for humor.

Clarke’s shoulders slump in defeat for only a second, and then she seems to think of something because her head snaps up and a smile tugs on her lips.

“Octavia, did your grandmother tell you anything about the staff of Merlin?”

“Yeah, it’s just here,” she points a finger at an old wooden box in the corner of the room and Clarke smiles, reaching for it. “But she said she can’t do anything with it because she’s bad at potions.”

“I’m not the best, either.”

Both of them look crestfallen and Bellamy chuckles, making them frown at him.

“I can do potions.”

“You can?” Clarke asks, incredulous, and he confirms with a nod.

“That’s the one thing I can do.”

They settle around the kitchen island, Clarke fetching the ingredients they are going to need for the potion and Octavia handing Bellamy the ladles and the cauldrons, going through a recipe book shoved behind the oven.

“We’re going to improvise,” she finally announces. “The recipe was in grandma’s spell book. You don’t remember it, Bell?”

“She never told me about it, no. But I think-“

He turns around to rummage through the cabinet above the sink and lets out a loud ‘aha!’ when he finds the last few belladonna leaves.

“I think belladonna should work. Because it’s essentially a trance spell, right?” he asks and the two witches nod. “Well, belladonna is used for sleeping potions and poisons, but we can revert it with jasmine and – hand me that jar, O.”

He drops all ingredients into a cauldron, adds a mixture of water and tea grandma Aggy uses, and then Clarke lights up the burner with a flick of her hand.

“You just improvised a potion, you know that, right?” Clarke asks him after a while, leaning against the counter and looking exactly like home in his grandma’s kitchen. He likes the sight of her in what little brain he’s got left that’s not preoccupied with a horrible curse over Halloweentown.

“I do that all the time,” he shrugs, stirring the potion just as it begins bubbling. “It’s no big deal.”

Clarke laughs, bright and vibrant, leaving him just a little breathless. “It actually is. Take me and your grandma – we suck at potions. But you can come up with a potion in a second.”

“Well, I’m not magic but I can cook.”

“You _are_ magic,” she rolls her eyes and then steps closer, leaning over the cauldron and into the clear blue steam. She hums, content, and then grins at him. “This is a real potion. No one without magical powers could do this.”

They stand there for a while, Clarke grinning and Bellamy just blinking at her, and then it seems like both of them realize how close they are. If he stepped one foot forward, his nose would be touching hers and – he likes how close they are, there is something reassuring and calming about her presence, all bubbly laughter and vibrant eyes.

Her gaze darts to his lips and he steps closer, angling his head just a bit until she closes her eyes and his lips are almost touching hers –

“I’ve got it!” Octavia cheers and then abruptly stops. “ _Oh_. Oh, you guys, I’m so sorry.”

Clarke chuckles, her forehead coming to rest on his and he likes how that feels. He’d like it more if they managed to kiss but – witchcraft first, kissing later.

“It’s fine, O,” he reassures her as Clarke moves away, blushing furiously. “The potion is nearly done anyways.”

“Mhm,” Octavia hums, eyebrows high on her forehead. “Sure it is.”

But it gets done in about half an hour, which they spend talking about who might have done this and possible locations for his grandmother and all those who have gone missing, but when they pour it into the staff - nothing happens.

All three of them frown at the staff of Merlin and the unmoving gray mist in the ball on top of it.

“Why isn’t it working?”

“Wait,” Clarke raises a hand and then turns to Octavia. “Let’s try a spell over it. It’s stronger if it’s more than one witch.”

The two of them join hands, palms against palms and their eyes closed. Their voices carry around the room, Bellamy holding the staff between them and observing the air shifting, like it’s no longer just the three of them but a whole universe packed into his grandmother’s kitchen.

“Bet y March, bet y Guythur, bet y Gugaun, Cledyfrutm anoeth bid!”

There is a sound like a whip cracking and the ball flickers on, shining orange in Bellamy’s hands. Clarke and Octavia cheer, high-fiving each other in joy, and Bellamy’s can’t help but to smile.

“And to think that we always made fun of grandma – flaky grandma Blake, hooked up with King Arthur.”

Clarke swats his arm, laughing, and takes the staff from him. “It’d be the best if we placed it in the pumpkin.”

“Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

 

 

They make it to the town square and the sight of it completely devoid of all citizens makes all three of them stop in their tracks. It’s not even late, and only yesterday there would’ve been a whole bunch of people walking around, shopping and talking to each other.

Now there is no one and the pumpkin looks so small and colorless that Clarke’s shoulders slump. Bellamy takes her hand in his left, and Octavia’s in his right. The staff is still glowing, a bright thing in the darkness caused by the pumpkin’s light losing its shine, and at least there’s some hope in that.

They slowly make their way across the square, careful of anyone who might see them, and it is when they climb on the pedestal that something makes them recoil from it and they end up on the floor.

“Stop!”

A voice booms across the square and they look up, only to see a swirl of darkness high in the air above them.

People slowly start coming over, appearing as if out of thin air, and Clarke tugs Bellamy’s sleeve.

“What is-“

Wells is there, too, his face blank and his movements lacking their usual joviality. Grandma Aggy is standing a few steps from him, the same empty look in her eyes and Bellamy’s stomach plummets.

They look like zombies – moving, but not existing, not really. Now he knows what his grandmother must’ve felt – something is missing, something so important. Life.

Octavia looks up at him, eyes wide and worried, and this time he doesn’t know what to say to ease her concern because his grandmother is among all those drained people and whenever he tries to get closer to the pumpkin, it’s as if there’s a force field making him bounce back.

Then the black figure moves from where it whirled above them and it becomes corporeal on top of the city hall, air turning into robes and a face appearing where there was nothing but void.

“Wallace,” Clarke presses out, narrowing her eyes at the Halloweentown’s mayor. Bellamy knew of him, and he never thought the man was particularly nice but he wouldn’t have pegged him for the dark force that wants to ruin Halloweentown.

He has grandma Aggy’s spell book in his right hand and Bellamy growls.

“Citizens of Halloweentown!” he starts, addressing the unmoving mass of people surrounding the three of them. Instinctively, Bellamy draws Clarke and Octavia closer. “Our time of hiding has passed! Why should the humans get the world that is rightfully ours? Why must we fear for our lives because we have something that they don’t – magic?”

Bellamy is entranced listening to him and it’s only when Clarke elbows him in the ribs that he winces and shifts to look at her. Her blue eyes are focused and intense, staring him down from whatever high he’d been on.

“You need to get the staff into the pumpkin, Bellamy. Only a Blake can do it.”

Wallace’s voice is too loud for Bellamy to hear anything Clarke is saying. “Some of us believe that we are better off like this, shut away from everything and everyone. But it is only weakness that is stopping us from claiming the world that is ours – and ours only!”

“You’ll never get away with this, Wallace!” Clarke shouts, her voice cutting through Wallace’s monologue and he grins at her.

“Ah, a Griffin witch. Well, Clarke Griffin, you can either join me or die. Same goes for you, young Blakes. Your grandmother was a great witch but her time has passed. It’s a new era now. So hand me the staff of Merlin and let us all return to our world!”

Clarke rolls her eyes and turns back to Bellamy. “Bellamy, staff. Pumpkin.”

“I can’t – I’m not magic.”

It feels like an excuse but he can’t do it. You have to be magic to make it work and he’s – he’s just a stupid boy, normal and ordinary. Nothing special about him.

Clarke takes his hand and her eyes bore into his, steely and unrelenting. “I believe in you, Bellamy.”

Octavia is still unmoving next to him, her face going blanker every second that passes and he can’t do anything. But Clarke is squeezing his hand and he has to at least try.

“I’ll create a distraction,” she smiles. “Just go.”

He’s about to turn away, and Clarke is still looking at him - her eyes full of trust. A girl that believes in him and all the weight of whether they would survive or not is placed upon his shoulders.

He can carry the weight. That was always his talent.

But he tugs her hand, pressing her flush against her chest as Wallace’s voice echoes over the square, washing over the blank faces and unmoving bodies of people who Bellamy had seen laugh and talk, their eyes once full of mirth. Clarke looks at him, understanding, and it might be the last time he smiles but he smiles into the kiss, pressing his lips against hers.

The kiss is chaste but both of them smile for just a split of second, before they realize what they have to do.

“When all of this blows over, I’m taking you out on a real date,” he promises, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Clarke rolls her eyes like their lives don’t depend on whether he makes it or not. “Of course you are. Go!”

He runs towards the pumpkin, clutching the staff in his hand as tight as it goes, and he hears Clarke yell at Wallace – the air vibrating with magic again as the mayor hisses.

His hands find a steady hold in the pumpkin’s eyes and he jumps, grasping the opening on top of it. He can almost see a hole where the staff of Merlin would fit and he can almost reach it, just an inch-

Something akin to a punch hits him in the back and blows all air out of his lungs. It freezes him in place, his knuckles going white from trying not to let go of the edge he’s holding on to, and he hears Wallace shout.

“You stupid boy!”

His mind is dissolving into nothingness and it becomes hard to remember the cadence of Octavia’s laugh or the feel of Clarke’s hand in his. But he still remembers, pushing through the haze clouding his mind and he remembers the smell of potions his grandmother prepared, remembers how warm Maya’s smile was when he’d fall asleep in the library, remembers Clarke’s reassuring touch.

He remembers everything and his heart swells with love for the people of Halloweentown who showed him kindness when he had nothing to give in return.

His fingers tremble as he tries to push forward, close the inch between the staff and the place where it fits, but he’s not going to make it. His body is limp and still but all he wants is to do this, save all of them because these people are his people and this town is his home.

He wants so much his teeth are gritted and he’s hissing in pain, but he _wants_ and the staff flies out of his hand, descending towards the inside of the pumpkin. With a click, it fits into place and then the light is so bright he can’t keep his eyes open and his body is flying, flying until he can hear the shouts again.

“Bell!”

The pumpkin is shining so bright that no darkness could ever stand a chance, light seeping out of its eyes and the mouth carved into a smile, and wherever it reaches – people stir from their trances, shaking their heads and looking around in confusion.

Octavia is leaning over him, a huge smile on her face. “I told you. You just have to wish for something and let yourself have it.”

He doesn’t know what she’s talking about until Clarke runs over to them and buries her head into the crook of his neck, winding her arms around his waist. “You did it! You’re magic, Bellamy!”

She brings his hands closer to his face and he can’t help a nervous laughter that bursts from his lips when he sees the faint blue coloring his fingertips, just like when Octavia first started training.

“Welcome to the coven, big brother.”

Their grandmother joins them soon after disposing of Wallace with Clarke’s mother and Bellamy isn’t happy because his powers returned – he’s happy because the citizens of Halloweentown are back on the streets, and everywhere he looks around he sees people with so much love for one another.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t see Clarke for a few days, a lot of things that need to be done now that everyone is back and he is a warlock. It’s still odd and Octavia laughs when she sees him trying to put a spell on their cat, Socks, to stop scratching the furniture.

She tells him he’s hopeless but he figures that there’s still enough hope if his powers returned.

It’s dinnertime when Clarke appears on his doorstep and he knows that she’s coming ever before he even sees her. Now he knows, feels it like an absolute truth that makes his heart skip a beat.

She’s standing in front of his door, leaning on a bright orange broom, and a wry smile is splitting her face. He loves the girl.

“So, about that date. You wanna go for a ride?”

 Oh, he’d go anywhere with her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, that's it. I was a little late to the party of Bellarke Halloween AUs and my heart breaks for all the fics I could've written if I thought of it earlier but hey - it is what it is. 
> 
> Also, I know that the plot here is not well thought-out but the plot isn't the point - I just wanted my fave nerds in my fave movie. And also Cage Wallace having his ass kicked because I hate that jerk. 
> 
> I hope you liked this, though, and if you did - please leave kudos and comments because I love hearing from you! You're all awesome!
> 
> Happy Halloween!
> 
> p.s. come say hi on my [tumblr](http://marauders-groupie.tumblr.com).


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